Obtuse
by Joodiff
Summary: Boyd overhears a conversation between Grace and Eve and inevitably jumps to entirely the wrong conclusion... Complete. T for language. Enjoy!


**DISCLAIMER: **I own nothing.

_**Dedication:** for all the FB OHT for being thoroughly good people._

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><p><strong>Obtuse<strong>

by Joodiff

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><p>Over the years, Peter Boyd has developed highly selective hearing. It often startles the less experienced members of the unit's staff how he can somehow manage to overhear a mutinous, <em>sotto voce<em> mutter on the far side of the squad room and yet can often apparently completely fail to hear something more-or-less yelled straight into his ear. In fact, Boyd does, of course, have very good hearing – when it suits him. Accordingly, he detects the approaching footsteps and quiet voices well before the two women actually enter the big, chilly underground room that currently houses the vast majority of the CCU's extensive archive. He looks up automatically, peering over the top of his reading glasses, but it's an exercise in futility – there's a ceiling-high metal rack stacked with folders, evidence boxes and various other bits and pieces between him and his newly-arrived colleagues, one which completely obscures them from view.

Under normal circumstances, it's not in Boyd's nature to deliberately eavesdrop on his staff – though that sharp hearing often serves him very well when it comes to knowing exactly what's going on behind his back – and he's about to make his presence known when Eve's voice clearly says, "Oh, you know what men are like, Grace..."

Intrigued, Boyd makes the classic mistake of hesitating, and before he can actually make loud throat-clearing noises, or deliberately drop something with a tell-tale clatter, he hears Grace answer in an exasperated tone, "I just don't know how such an obviously intelligent man can be _so_ obtuse."

It's definitely time to announce himself one way or another, he realises, but the tone of her voice catches his attention almost more than the words themselves. Boyd is well-aware that he can be ridiculously over-protective where Grace Foley is concerned – it's a habit he's grown into over more years than he cares to think about, and her recent ill-health has done nothing to mitigate his deeply ingrained instinct to instantly leap to her defence whether she needs it or not. If someone is upsetting her, then Boyd wants to know about it. He's already bristling slightly, however much he'd like to deny it to himself.

Eve's answering chuckle is wry. "In my experience, the subtle approach never works unless it's sign-posted in ten-foot high neon letters."

"I don't think it's actually possible for me to be any less subtle about it, Eve. Let's face it – he's just not interested."

"Oh, come on… He's definitely interested, no question about it."

None of what he's hearing is appealing to Boyd. This, he thinks, is not a debate he needs or wants to overhear, but there's not much he can do about it. Frowning heavily, he tries to ignore the unpleasant thing he doesn't want to give a name to that's prickling up and down his spine and concentrates instead on trying to work out exactly who the two women are discussing. True, despite their close friendship there are a lot of things that he and Grace consciously don't share, the finer details of their respective romantic entanglements coming fairly high on the list, but although there is a tacit embargo on discussing the subject, they're generally instinctively aware when the other is temporarily… diverted. Running the list of potential suspects through his mind, however, Boyd draws a complete and infuriating blank.

With a perfectly audible sigh, Grace says, "It's probably for the best, I suppose. No unnecessary complications."

"You really do have a serious thing for him, don't you?"

"Surprised?"

"Not particularly. He's really not my type, Grace, but I can see the attraction."

"He's not exactly _my_ type, either, to be fair. But…"

"…the heart moves in mysterious ways?"

"Something like that."

Boyd really, really doesn't like the direction the conversation is heading in, but he knows he's already heard far too much to make a sudden belated appearance a viable proposition. Pointlessly, he glances around for an escape route that simply doesn't exist. There's nowhere to go, no other way out of the room. Firmly dismissing the idea of brazenly walking out from behind the concealing racks, his only remaining option is to stay exactly where he is and hope that they hurry up and get on with whatever it is they're supposed to be doing. Roundly and silently cursing himself for his first stupid hesitation, Boyd does something very uncharacteristic – he dithers.

"Why not simply try being straight with him?" Eve's voice suggests.

The answering snort is loud and derisive. "And watch him run for the hills? I don't think so."

"You could just jump on him, you know."

"The thought has vaguely occurred to me."

Boyd winces, both at Grace's dry rejoinder and Eve's answering laughter. He _definitely_ doesn't like what he's hearing, and his continued inability to identify the anonymous subject of their discussion is irritating him well beyond the normal limits of his admittedly meagre patience. Just who the hell is this mystery man that Grace is apparently so smitten by?

He's jealous. No point in denying it to himself any longer. Truth be told, he's very jealous. And that's incredibly irritating, too.

Eve says, "No offence, Grace, but you certainly know how to pick 'em…"

"What can I say? I've always had a bit of a weakness for the wild ones."

Interesting. Interesting, but frustrating, because it still doesn't bring any obvious contenders to mind. It does, of course, help Boyd to eliminate one or two from his admittedly sketchy list, but that's not much help given that none of them really seem to be likely candidates.

"Seriously, do you think you could actually cope with him? I mean, really?"

"No idea," Grace says, a touch of humour underlying what sounds like deep resignation. "But I suspect it would be a lot of fun finding out..."

"Grace!"

"What? Oh, I see – I'm not supposed to have thoughts like that at my age, is that it?"

The whole situation is definitely going from bad to worse as far as Boyd is concerned. And he's got a nasty suspicion that he's about to hear more than he ever wanted to about –

"Sex," Eve says obscurely.

The sudden temptation to bang his head repeatedly against one of the rack's metal uprights is very strong. As is the temptation to simply put his fingers firmly in his ears for the duration. But – stoically – Boyd does neither.

"Mm."

"Really…?" Eve's slightly incredulous reply.

"Why not?"

"Not my type."

"Too old?"

"Too… unpredictable."

"That's half the fun. But it's academic, isn't it? He's not interested."

"See, that's where I maintain you're wrong, Grace. I think he's _very_ interested – he just hasn't realised it."

"Well, that's just stupid…"

"He's a _man_, for heaven's sake… men _are_ stupid."

Not quite sure if he's offended or amused by Eve's blunt assertion, Boyd silently shakes his head. Nothing he's heard has in any way endeared the object of Grace's affections to him. Not that he's ever likely to feel charitable towards anyone he could conceivably view as a potential rival for her attention. The thought that somewhere beyond his control there exists a man who could seriously damage the current _status quo_ doesn't just gall him, it fills him with an intense and irrational indignation. Objectively, he understands his folly, knows he has no right at all to feel the way he does… but this is Grace. _Grace_. The woman he knows he's overlooked for years, but the one he's always somehow quietly… held in the back of his mind. And, oh, that sounds bad. Even as an unspoken thought, it sounds very bad. Incredibly selfish. Brutal, even.

Grace. She was always supposed to _be_ there. Just… be there.

Oh, fuck. He realises that he's never really considered the possibility of someone else appearing from nowhere and treading on his toes. Certainly not someone Grace evidently… has deep feelings for.

For a brief moment Boyd actually contemplates just walking straight out in front of them and taking whatever castigation they care to throw at him. It can't be any worse than listening to Grace talking about –

"The whole _thing's_ stupid," she says, her voice very calm. "Sometimes I wish I'd never told you in the first place."

"You didn't tell me anything I hadn't already guessed, Grace. Besides, we talked about a lot of things while you were ill, and I told you plenty of personal things I wouldn't normally share with anyone."

"Oh, I know… Just ignore me, Eve. It's been a long week, I'm tired and I'm rambling on about things that are just… pointless."

There's a short silence, broken only by slight scuffling noises that Boyd can't quite identify. Perhaps they are finally getting on with whatever the task in hand is.

Eve's voice says abruptly, "Are you in love with him?"

Once again there is a loud and heavy sigh. "Don't ask me to answer that."

"For God's sake, Grace…"

"You're trying to make it all sound so simple, and it's not. Not at all. There are so many complications…"

"So?"

"So," Grace says, "I want what I can't have, and that's an end to it."

"He's breaking your heart."

"But _he_ doesn't know that, does he?"

The words hit Boyd harder than he could ever have imagined. The swell of protective fury that rises in him is staggering in its violent purity. The thought that someone is apparently causing her such pain –

Eve says, "End of discussion?"

"End of discussion," Grace's voice says firmly. "Now, have you got that file? Spence'll be wondering where the hell we've got to."

"Grace – "

"Enough, Eve. Enough. Come on, before he sends out a search party…"

Boyd does not move as they depart. In fact, Boyd does not move a muscle until long after their footsteps have faded into the far distance.

-oOo-

He doesn't know what to do – whether there's even anything he _can_ do – and the mounting frustrating has a predictably detrimental effect on his temper. He growls his way through a meeting with Spencer, and brusquely tells Kat – not for the first time – that he is rescheduling her long-overdue appraisal. News always travels fast in the CCU's gloomy bunker, and Boyd is not remotely surprised to find that wherever he goes, everyone makes a point of both looking exceptionally busy and determinedly not making eye-contact with him. _Watch out,_ the metaphorical smoke signals will have said, _the Super's on the warpath…_

It doesn't bother him. Firstly, he's not paid to be popular, he's paid to get results, and secondly, he has far more important things on his mind. Namely Grace and her unknown potential paramour. He's jealous and he's truculent, but he's also still bristling on her behalf, and increasingly more preposterous ideas flit through his mind. If he can find out the man's identity, maybe there _is_ something he can do… a friendly man-to-man chat, perhaps. One that comes with black leather gloves and a tiger's smile. Stupid idea… but oddly appealing. Oh, yes. At close on six foot in his bare feet, and proportionally well-built, Boyd is quite sure he could persuade the unknown man to see the error of his ways without having to do very much at all.

He doesn't seek Grace out intentionally, but towards the end of the long, irksome afternoon he finds himself drifting inexorably towards her recently-renovated office, too many conflicting thoughts and emotions washing through him like a restless spring tide. Boyd is, fundamentally, a man who thrives on extremes of temper, one who dislikes the deathly inertia that equilibrium fosters in him – and one who needs the composure of others. Needs, in fact, the composure of Grace. All too often she acts as a lightning conductor, safely grounding the dangerous, stormy energy that possesses him. It's not an encouraging thought that he probably needs her a lot more than she needs him.

In fact, he thinks, as he's drawn closer and closer to her open door, he's got a suspicion that she doesn't need him at all. He serves no real purpose in her life – friend and colleague he may be, but there is nothing unique about him that she couldn't easily find elsewhere in someone else. Even his questionable role as her protector is completely self-appointed. He amuses her, Boyd knows that; amuses her and simultaneously frustrates her. She likes him well enough, but she doesn't _need_ him. Not in the way he's come to accept that he needs her.

And now he has a rival, someone who might just upstage him completely.

Her voice says, "What are you doing, Boyd?"

He blinks, mentally shakes himself. From the far side of her desk, Grace is regarding him quizzically. He shrugs, takes a step forward to stand in the doorway. "What do you mean?"

"You're lurking," she says. "Definitely lurking."

"I don't lurk," he tells her with considerable dignity. "I may ponder, I may meander, but I don't _lurk_."

"If you say so. So why are you _pondering_ outside my door?"

"Are you okay?" Boyd finds himself asking, the words spoken before he can actually think about them.

She looks faintly surprised. "I'm fine. Why?"

"You know," he says vaguely, thinking on his feet. "Phased return, longer hours…"

Grace sighs. "Oh, we're not going to go through all that again, are we? Boyd, I'm fine… all the tests are fine, all the scans are clear…"

Boyd doesn't listen to her patient reassurances properly, he just watches her. Watches her and wonders what it would be like to put his arms round her and kiss her. Wonders how she'd react, and whether he'd ever be able to let go of her again if he did. He's reluctantly coming to the conclusion that he's more than a little in love with her, and Christ, he's such an idiot. Such a fucking _idiot_.

"Boyd? You're not listening at all, are you? Why on earth do I bother?"

He leaves the doorway, advances on her desk and then halts. "Nice weekend planned?"

Grace looks simultaneously bewildered and deeply suspicious. "What's got into you today?"

"Just showing a friendly interest."

"Hmm," she says, her frown quite clear. "Well, if you must know, I was supposed to be having dinner with an old friend, but he's cancelled. So you might get the Donaldson case report by Monday morning after all."

"He's cancelled?"

"All right," she says slowly, her steady blue gaze fixed on him. "What's going on? Even for you, this is weird behaviour."

"I just… I don't… It doesn't matter. Would you be happier if I started yelling for the profile on Dawson?"

"It would certainly be far more normal."

"Oh, fine," Boyd says, giving up. "Have it your own bloody way. I want that profile on my desk before you leave tonight. Happy now?"

"Blissfully so."

"Good."

"Good. Was there anything else…?"

"No," he says grumpily. "Profile. My desk. Tonight."

"Yes, Oh Great One."

"Piss off, Grace."

-oOo-

If he thinks about it, if he _really_ thinks about it, Boyd can plot the slow evolution that has brought him to his current position. Can perfectly see the long arc of time and circumstance, from the first days of flirtatious banter as they carefully got to know each other, as they tested the boundaries and laid the foundations of an enduring but occasionally rocky friendship, to the dark days when she was so suddenly and unexpectedly ill and he raged childishly against an insidious enemy he couldn't fight on her behalf. A long, long arc that scythes through good days and bad days, through misunderstandings and tragedies, and culminates in the here and now. Even with hindsight, though, he can't quite pinpoint the exact moment when something in their relationship subtly shifted and placed Grace firmly in the ascendant… if not on a professional level then certainly on a personal one.

He's a fool.

"_I want what I can't have…"_

Her words, not his. But he understands them so well.

It's not going to happen. He has responsibilities, boundaries of duty and propriety. And how often has she made it quite clear that he infuriates her, that she finds the more questionable of his methods completely intolerable… that, in fact, she finds _him_ completely intolerable.

He is who _he_ is, and she's who _she_ is.

And he's not just stubborn, he's pragmatic, too, so Boyd squares his shoulders and he marches balefully through the basement, glaring at anyone who makes the mistake of crossing his path, and he heads unerringly for the lab.

-oOo-

It's evident both from Eve's wary expression and the number of lights in the lab that have already been switched off that as far as she's concerned the weekend is already upon them and she has no intention of remaining in the building for a moment longer than she has to. Boyd can almost feel the defensive wall of resistance that goes up the second he steps through the inner doors, still awkwardly shrugging into his white coat. Eve gives him the kind of look that suggests that if he has any intention of asking her to do _anything_ before she leaves he'd better be damned sure he's offering to pay overtime at full weekend rate.

Like Grace herself, Eve is not easily intimidated – and Boyd knows from experience that the cannonball approach is equally as unlikely to work on her when he has no real authority to back him up. Sadly, he's also well aware that strategic deployment of the easy charm he's perfectly capable of when he chooses is just as unlikely to obtain results – Eve is not easily charmed, either. At least, not by him. Accordingly, he opens with, "All done for the week?"

"Unless you're bringing bad tidings."

"Not this time – you can get the hell out of here with my blessing, but…"

Eve rolls her eyes in a very Grace-like manner. Clearly the two women are spending altogether too much time together. "But…?"

"Can you spare me five minutes first? I want to talk about Grace."

The reaction is exactly what he expects – acquiescent but guarded. "What about Grace?"

He waves a hand towards her desk. "Mind if we sit down…? You're pretty close nowadays, aren't you?"

"Is that a problem?"

Boyd gives her a surprised look. "Of course not. Christ, why does everyone automatically cast me as the villain of the piece?"

Eve sits down. "Sorry."

Taking the other chair, he decides to take a gamble. "Look, however hilarious everyone finds it, being head of a unit like this one comes with certain… pastoral… responsibilities in addition to everything else. Oh, don't look at me like that… It's not an area I excel in, admittedly, and normally I'm more than happy to leave it to Grace to deal with that sort of thing, but – "

" – when it's Grace we're talking about…?"

"Exactly. Help me out here, Eve. How is she?"

"Ask her."

"I do. All the bloody time. And I just get the standard bullshit about how the test results are clear and everything's looking good…"

"There you are, then."

It takes a lot of effort to remain calm as he shakes his head. "I'm not talking about her health, Eve. I'm talking about how she is in general. Whether there's anything going on in her life that's… upsetting her."

Eve's expression has changed from astonishment to scepticism. "Where's this coming from, Boyd?"

He can't help glaring. "For God's sake – I'm just concerned. Is that so difficult for you to accept?"

She's silent for a moment, her dark eyes apparently searching his face for answers. She shrugs. "Well, as far as I know, she's absolutely fine."

Reassuring to hear, naturally, but not the answer to the question Boyd feels he simply can't ask outright. He tries, "She hasn't seemed preoccupied to you just recently?"

"No."

He stares at her silently, watching the way she gazes steadily back, neither of them giving anything away. Boyd makes a decision as he folds his arms across his chest. Calmly, he says, "Must be my imagination. After all, men are stupid, aren't they, Eve?"

That registers. Her eyes widen slightly, and he catches a glimpse of the quickly-hidden shock that chases across her face. Shock that's very quickly followed by a confused mixture of guilt and anger, also swiftly hidden. Her tone is icy as she says, "I never took you for a deliberate eavesdropper, Boyd."

He ignores the implied censure. "So who is he?"

"Does it matter?"

"Of course it bloody matters."

"Why?"

"Because…" Boyd starts, but immediately realises he can't – _won't_ – explain. Not to Eve. He dissembles rapidly. "Because if Grace is being distracted by something in her private life – "

"Her _private_ life," Eve interrupts pointedly. "Something which, as far as I'm aware, we're all still entitled to."

"Just tell me who he is, Eve."

"No."

Boyd takes a deep breath, exhales slowly. Repeats the exercise. Quietly, he says, "That's your last word on the subject, is it?"

"It is."

"I _will_ find out."

"I hope you do."

"Meaning?"

"Nothing."

He stands up, knowing it's time to retreat before his temper gets the better of him. Coldly, he says, "Thank you for your help, Doctor Lockhart."

Eve doesn't say anything until he's virtually at the door, and even then her last words are pithy. She says, "You're a fool, Boyd."

Choosing to ignore the gibe, Boyd walks out of the lab without even sparing her a backward glance.

-oOo-

The squad room is notably empty. It seems everyone has taken full advantage of his brief absence to stage a comprehensive disappearing act. No Spencer, no Kat, no support staff. They've made a run for it, all of them, and although they're perfectly entitled to do so, it doesn't improve Boyd's mood. Not at all. Worse by far, he quickly discovers, Grace is suddenly very absent from her office, too. Computer switched to stand-by, monitor off. Not encouraging. When he checks, though, her coat and bag are still present. Somewhere still in the building, then.

It doesn't help. There's nothing he can say to her.

"Boyd?"

Startled, he turns quickly on his heel. "Grace."

"You're very jumpy."

"Sorry."

She tilts her head fractionally to the side, and God help him all he wants to do is reach out to her, embrace her, kiss her…

"Seriously – are you all right? You've been very… odd… all afternoon."

_Who is he, Grace?_ – "Yeah, I'm fine. Just tired."

"Go home," she advises. "Eat something that doesn't come from a takeaway, have a drink, get some sleep."

"Is that what you're going to do?"

She grimaces and nods. "I'm afraid so. I lead such an exciting life."

"Go on, then. Bugger off home before I hold you to finishing that damned profile."

"It's done," she says serenely. "Done and on your desk, as ordered."

"Requested."

"Requested in a very forceful sort of way."

Boyd tries to banter along with her. "I thought you liked your men to be a bit forceful?"

The look she gives him is impenetrable. "Oh, I do."

He can't bear it. He sighs. "Go home, Grace. Call your friend. Tell him he's a fucking idiot and sting him for the best restaurant you can think of."

She frowns. "Are you _sure_ you're all right, Peter?"

It makes him flinch, the use of his first name. He says gruffly, "Yeah, I'm sure. Go on, get out of here."

He's an idiot. What he doesn't realise is just how much of an idiot.

Grace hesitates. "I could stay for a bit…"

"Go," he says, more sharply than he intends. _Go, before I do something we'll both regret…_

He thinks she looks a little hurt, but quickly decides it's just his imagination. He is, after all, incredibly obtuse.

He doesn't want to watch her leave. He retreats to his own office, settles behind his desk and only grunts a response to her tentative farewell. He doesn't look up, and so he doesn't see the look on her face. The one that speaks of hurt and longing and resignation.

Boyd listens to her disappearing footsteps and then he extracts the bottle of whiskey from the bottom drawer of his desk.

He's an idiot. A frustrated, lonely idiot. Steadily, quietly, Peter Boyd pours himself a drink.

_- the end -_

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><p><em><strong>AN:** this was originally written as a oneshot, but I was made an offer I couldn't refuse to write a sequel... so it now has one: "Resolution". Read it or not, depending on whether you like your B/G unresolved. ;)_


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